


Abandonment

by Doofus87



Series: Prompt fills/Standalone Scenes. [1]
Category: Robotech, Robotech The Macross Saga
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 06:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20523809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doofus87/pseuds/Doofus87
Summary: For the Fanfiction subreddit's August 2019 writing prompt challenge.A brief look at an upcoming scene where Daniels, in charge of the destroid squad "Wardogs", is given an order that calls up a nightmare of the worst sort.





	Abandonment

The martian wind whipped the red dust around the feet of the destroids of Wardog squad. The four war machines sheltered behind one of the buildings of Mars Base Sara, as Daniels in Wardog 01 relayed the situation to his troops. “Alright boys, Gunsight just passed down that they have a plan to get offa this rock.”

Schmitt cuts in from Wardog 02, “Let me guess, they want us to dig 3 klicks down while under fire.”

“Thank God no. Someone is going to rig the reactor on base to blow it's top. That's the good news. Bad news, we will have a hard time limit of 15 mikes to GTFO. Unless we wanna get blasted into orbit without the SDF-1. So stick to the plan, when the word comes down from Greyhound, we fall back by the numbers. Cover each other and stay on your toes. I'd hate for any of y'all to miss out on the half-price beers back at the NCO club.”

After the brief joke, Daniels directs his squad into a better position to receive the enemy battlepods that were wreaking havoc with the first line of defenders. As the fighting rages on the Marines viciously tear into any alien mecha that makes to push on the defenseless transport trucks.

After another half-hour of combat, Claudia's voice breaks into the clear on the all-hands channel, “All destroids and veritechs, begin to fall back. Lure the enemy onto the base and surrounding area. You have t-minus one five minutes to reactor meltdown. I say again, t-minus one five minutes.”

Daniels cuts in, “You heard the lady, gents. Let's get while the getting is good!”

* * *

The Spartans of Wardog squad fall back in good order, utilizing what sparse cover the mecha can make work on the barren martian landscape. The Marines continue with their running gun battle back towards the SDF-1, leapfrogging back covering one another while delaying the aliens, hoping to bog them down on the base.

Daniels' radio squeals as it picks up a weak signal broadcasting freely. “-anyone that can hear this, we are pinned down and need assistance. I say again, this is Viper squad, we are cut off with four transport trucks in tow. To anyone that can hear us, please help!”

Jeremy freezes as a chill of panic races along his spine. The haunting sound of the martian wind threatens to drag buried memories to the surface. Daniels checks his tacmap while keying to the command frequency, saying, “Greyhound, this is Wardog lead. Did you read Viper's last, over?”  
Major Armstrong's calm baritone carries through the speakers,“Affirmative Wardog lead. We read it. Continue to fall back.”

“Copy that sir, already have someone moving to relieve Viper?”

Armstrong sighs, “Negative, they're too far out of position to be helped. We have to cut our losses.”

Jeremy opens his mouth only to snap it shut again, “Say again Greyhound? I thought I heard you say we're leaving them out hanging.”

“Half-pint, stow the shit. We both know you heard me clear as day the first time. Fall. Back.”

Jeremy bites back the bile rising in his throat as the radio calls from Viper ratchets up in panic as a new assault presses on them. “Greyhound, Wardog is in range to get to Viper and get back again before the fireworks.”

“What is your weapon status?”

Jeremy responds as he continues to hear the please from Viper Squad in his other earpiece. “We're combat ready sir.”

“Bullshit. What is your full weapons status at present.”

Jeremy grits his teeth, “We are down to 6 total missiles. Oh one and oh three have 50 rounds for our gunpods each, oh two has 75 and oh four has 125. 04 Oh four also has 3 one-eighty mortar rounds left. Oh one also has a belt and a half for my MG cluster. LASERs reading green. Oh two and oh three have around 25 rounds for their autocannons.”

“You call that combat ready?”

“Yessir. We also have our hands.”

“Wardog lead, again. Fall. Back. You can't do anything to help them.”

Daniels stiffens as dark memories from his time in Afghanistan rush past his mind's eye.

* * *

The cold Afghani wind whips past the Marines huddled behind the Humvees, one of the turret gunners loosing a long burst of fire at an enemy who'd shown himself, a gravelly voice comes through the receiver “Lieutenant, you can't do anything to help them.”

Jeremy growls back, “Fuck. That. Noise. Sir. You cannot be telling me to abandon over two dozen airmen to the Taliban. If you give me some arty, some A-10s, or hell, a pair of little birds, like I've been asking for the past three hours, I can get these people out. I know it, I just need-”

Col. Greaves snaps across the radio, cutting Daniels off, “Stow that shit Marine! You have a regimental sized enemy force bearing down on you. Your platoon are already out of ammo, if you don't leave now. We lose your platoon, and the airmen you already pulled out. I am giving you a direct order. Pull out now.”

Daniels grits his teeth as a second radio carries the pleas from the trapped personnel, “Jeremy! Please, they're closing in, you said you'd get me out of here. Where are you? They're closing in!”

Greaves speaks up again, “Lieutenant, are you going to give the order? Or do I need your Sergeant to relieve you?”

Biting back the tears, Daniels calls out, “3rd Platoon! Mount up, we're falling back.”

* * *

Daniels shakes himself out from his fugue, as he mumbles to himself, “Dear God, please no. I can't do this again. Not this again. Please. Let me wake up.”

Armstrong barks into the radio, "Wardog lead, I said, do you copy my last. Over?"

Jeremy stammers, "N-negative Greyhound, say again?"

"I said, you need to withdraw now. You can't help Viper. And we are at twelve minutes from detonation. How copy?"

Blinking back the tears, Daniels answers, "Aye aye sir. I'll have Wardog withdraw."

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the August prompt at the fanfiction subreddit. The prompt challenge I was given was to utilize the trope of "Your Worst Nightmare".


End file.
